And it hurts

And it hurts. Like this.
Echoing.
Water dripping from a pipe running along
a low basement ceiling. My chest is hot.
Echoing with each splash.
Watching it's deathly fate as it swells,
dangling there from above.
Death below.
It knows,
it knows as it swells.
Grip loses the argument and shhh...
Splash! My chest is hot.
An echo announces each death.
All the memories inside this body,
all the organs gasping as I let you go.
I watched, I swelled with you, then I lost the argument.
And splash!
The echo of my heart braking
dances against the walls of a sweaty basement; this is me letting you go.
Drop after drop,
you and I in a big puddle below
a dripping pipe running along a low basement ceiling.
My chest is hot.